


where we want to be

by Suicix



Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe, Domestic, Established Relationship, Fencer Jackson Wang, Fluff, Homecoming, M/M, Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2019-03-06 14:54:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13413633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suicix/pseuds/Suicix
Summary: And all Jackson wants is to see Mark and Jinyoung, to be face to face with them, skin to skin. To behome.





	where we want to be

In the time it takes for Jackson to blink, he swears the numbers on the screen telling him when his flight’s set to take off have changed. He frowns and blinks again, just to be sure he’s not suffering from some kind of fatigue induced hallucination, but – no. His flight, delayed. As if to mock him, a voice pipes up over the speaker to make sure that everybody knows: the seven o’clock flight to Seoul is now an eight o’clock flight; it’s been delayed by a whole hour.

Really, it’s no time at all – it isn’t two or three or four – but it’s still an extra sixty minutes standing between him and Mark and Jinyoung, and all he wants is to see them, to be face to face with them. To be skin to skin with them, to be _home._

Jackson slumps down in his chair, resigned to his new fate. He should shoot off a text to tell them about the delay, he realises, so he does, unlocking his phone and sending a message to their group. He follows up the text with a long string of various sad and angry emoji faces, just to make sure they feel extra sorry for him.

(Seeing their previous messages – the three of them saying that they love and miss each other, them telling him well done for winning – helps, somehow. Jackson scrolls through and immediately feels a little better knowing they’re waiting for him, that they want to see him just as much. He could be away for longer, could be somewhere much further away than Japan, and they’d still be missing him. Still be waiting for however long it takes for him to come back. He knows it.)

The extra hour drags by; the only thing that makes it anything close to interesting is a response from Mark. Jackson’s eyes are immediately back on his phone when the screen lights up, and in the rush to finally – _finally_ – start boarding, he hurriedly sends back a heart in reply. Just so they know he’s seen it.

The flight goes slowly, too, even though he manages to fall asleep for part of it. The noise alerting everyone to fasten their seatbelts for landing wakes him up, and he blearily opens his eyes, fumbling to get his belt on. Soon. He’ll be home soon, and then he can see Jinyoung and Mark and get some proper sleep.

The plane lands. Jackson collects his luggage and goes through customs. Now, it’s just a matter of catching a taxi back to the apartment, so he does, endlessly thankful for the lack of any serious traffic. When the ride’s over, he rushes into the building and wishes it were possible to speed up the elevator. He’s so close now. So very nearly there. There’s only one corridor, one door to open.

When he unlocks the front door, it smells like home. Home, and his favourite takeout place a couple of blocks away. It makes him smile despite how tired he is, and as he gets rid of his jacket and shoes, there’s the unmistakable sound of Mark’s laugh from somewhere in the apartment, and Jackson’s smile gets even wider. _Home._ Truly. He makes his way through to the lounge, suitcases in hand.

“Missed me?” he asks, stopping a few steps into the room, and god, the way their eyes light up as they look at him – the way that smiles stretch across their faces – feels like yesterday’s victory all over again. A gold medal he can’t touch or hold or wear, but one he can feel, right in his heart. Right where it would be resting if it _were_ a physical medal.

“You know we did,” Jinyoung says, and he and Mark are standing up, coming closer. “Welcome back.” He wraps an arm around Jackson, pulling him in and kissing his cheek. Before Jackson can even try and move back (not that he wants to, not that he ever wants to), Mark’s there, too, and this – touching the two of them again, getting to have this from them both, knowing how much they mean to each other as well – always means everything. Jackson buries his face in Mark’s neck, his shoulder. Breathing him in.

“Did you eat already?” Mark asks, and Jackson shakes his head: he’d been asleep when the inflight dinner had been served, and airplane meals aren’t exactly the most appetising in the first place. “That’s OK – we’ve got food.”

“I know,” says Jackson, because he does. He knows exactly what they got: exactly what they got, especially for him. It was obvious from one step into the hallway. The words are slightly muffled against Mark’s neck. “I have a nose. I can smell.”

“Some people can’t,” Jinyoung says, matter of fact. He squeezes Jackson’s upper arm. “We’ll get it sorted.”

He and Mark go to the kitchen and come back with the takeout and plates. Jackson will tell anyone who’ll listen that it’s the most authentic Chinese food in this side of the city at least, and there’s enough for all three of them (and maybe even some leftovers for the next day).

“You didn’t have to wait for me to get back just so you could eat,” he says, but something about the way Mark automatically says _we did_ and the look on Jinyoung’s face tells Jackson that there’s no point in trying to argue.

He just takes a seat on the couch and picks out the food he wants. Mark passes him a pair of chopsticks, and they dig in. It’s just as good as it always is: something that was once a piece of home away from home being used to welcome him back to his other, newer home, reminding him that now, home is here, too. In Korea, with Mark and Jinyoung.

When they’re done eating, talk turns to Jackson’s fencing, his trip to Japan. It’s easy to light up at their praise, but when Mark calls him _champ,_ Jackson just shrugs, because that isn’t really the case: there was no title to be won. It had been a friendly tournament, not much of a big deal, but he still ended up winning the whole thing. He supposes he can’t blame them for being proud of him. After all, he’s proud of himself.

“Our champion,” Jinyoung says, and OK, Jackson likes the way it sounds so much that he’s not going to bother with corrections. “Our star.”

“Your… internationally beloved sports star who spent the last few days abroad fighting his way through tough competition to come out victorious?” Jackson tries, his eyes wide, and Mark laughs. Being the one to make that laugh happen is even better than just hearing it, Jackson thinks.

“You might be getting a bit ahead of yourself there,” says Jinyoung, though it isn’t unkind, “but yes. Something like that.”

Jackson smiles and leans in to kiss him. He knows he’s not _that_ much of a big deal, because it’s not like fencing really is, either, but he’s a big deal to Mark and Jinyoung. That’s all that matters, all that Jackson needs. On his other side, Mark shuffles in even closer, one hand steady on Jackson’s hip.

“Still ours, though.” His voice is right there in Jackson’s ear, centring and sincere. “What do you want?”

“I just…” Jackson trails off, considering. What he wants the most right now is simply to relax. He’s full, and he’s still tired from the trip and the tournament despite napping on the plane. “I just wanna take a bath and go to bed,” he eventually says, honest. “With you two beside me. In bed, that is. We wouldn’t all fit in the bath.”

“Of course,” Jinyoung tells him. His eyes are crinkling ever so slightly at the corners, like he’s amused by what Jackson just said. “I’ll go and run it for you.”

He’s off to the bathroom, then, and it’s just Jackson and Mark. They clear the table, and Mark helps Jackson take his luggage through to the bedroom without Jackson even needing to ask. Since he’s been gone, someone’s changed the bedsheets. Maybe it was for his return home, or maybe it was just a necessary change. Jackson likes to think it’s the former.

He starts to strip off, getting ready for the bath. He can feel Mark watching him as he does, but he doesn’t feel awkward or ashamed. Something about Mark’s gaze on him feels warm, and when Jackson glances back at him, it’s there in Mark’s smile, too. Jackson’s suddenly overcome with the overwhelming desire to kiss him, and sure, that’s normal, but right now, when it’s been days, it feels all-encompassing. Like it’s something Jackson _needs._

He gives in to it, because, well – obviously. Mark hums against Jackson’s mouth, surprised, but he doesn’t pull back. Just lets it deepen, lets Jackson have what he wants, settling a hand on Jackson’s bare shoulder as Jackson clutches at Mark’s t-shirt. God, Jackson’s missed this. Missed it from Mark and missed it from Jinyoung, missed seeing them getting it from each other. Everything.

After a moment, it’s eerily quiet: the sound of the taps running in the bathroom has stopped. They break apart.

“Come on,” Mark says. “I think it’s ready.”

They head through. The moment Jackson steps into the bathroom, he can feel the heat rising from the water. There are bubbles in the bath.

“You didn’t have to do _this,”_ Jackson tells Jinyoung, picking up the bottle of bubble bath on the side of the bath and waving it at him.

“I wanted to.” Jinyoung snatches it from him and places the bottle on the shower rack. “I thought you might like it, that’s all.”

Jackson does. It’s the kind of tiny detail he would have probably forgotten, or only remembered when it was too late, when the bath was nearly full and there would have been no point in adding bubbles. He gets in: the water’s the perfect kind of hot against his skin, just the right temperature. He thanks Jinyoung for the bath and lets them tell him about how they spent the last few days, content to just listen for once. Of course he already vaguely knows some of this – they texted, after all, and there was a call when there was the time for it – but there’s something different about a real conversation, something different about being face to face and actually getting to hear voices and laughter echoing off the bathroom walls.

Eventually, the water cools down and the bubbles are no more. Jackson stands, shivering in the sudden cold, and once he’s out of the bath, Jinyoung hands him a towel, soft and clean and radiator-warm. Jackson dries himself off before wrapping it around his waist, grateful, and they head through to the bedroom.

Even though it’s only been a few days, it’s still so good to be back here, to be able to sleep in his own bed instead of a hotel room. The sheets are fresh but familiar, and there’s the right number of pillows. The right number of people sleeping in the bed. Perfect.

Jackson waits as Jinyoung and Mark get themselves ready to join him and ends up with one of them on either side (who gets the middle of the bed is often contested, but tonight, when he’s been away, it’s undeniably Jackson’s). Mark kisses his shoulder, and Jinyoung strokes a hand through his hair, and they’re both smiling, so Jackson smiles too, unable to help it as he lets his eyes slip shut.

He briefly frowns when Jinyoung shifts away from him, but it’s only to turn off the lamp on the nightstand: Jackson hears it click off to leave the room in the dark, and then Jinyoung’s back, just as close to Jackson as Mark is. Jackson sighs, contented. He’s dry, and warm, and exactly where he needs to be. _Everything_ he needs to be.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks so much for reading, everyone!! you can also find me on @ vibetechs and on twitter @gotsevenses


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